Guilty Until Proven Innocent
by AliceFranklyn
Summary: When Zoe is accused of something she didn't do, her career, her love life and her sanity are threatened. How far will she go to protect herself and the ones she loves?
1. Revenge

Zoe flew out the ED, her shoes clattering on the pavement and almost tripping her up. Past patients, past colleagues she ran, ignoring cries of concern or irritation as she bumped into those who got in her way, her mind focussed purely on getting out of there. Not until she reached the safety of her car did she slow down, threw herself into the driver's seat and tossed her bag onto the passenger seat. Leaning her head against folded arms against the wheel, she began to cry. This had been coming since she had left the office, but she hadn't wanted to let anyone see, holding it all in until she reached a safe place. In fact, this had been coming for a good few days, but she hadn't wanted to let herself acknowledge it, let alone let anyone else witness it. If felt almost good to let the tears flow, washing away the stinging pain that had held her eyes each time she had tried to hold it back before.

Hitting her head gently against her arms, her fists clenched into tight fists of anger and frustration, Zoe groaned softly. She wasn't just irritated, she was furious. She had been so naïve to think that this wasn't the real explanation, to think that there wasn't something behind it. For days she had blamed herself, torn herself to shreds inside, thinking that it had been her fault. She sat up straight quickly. She wasn't going to anymore. Wiping her tear-streaked cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket, she turned the key in the ignition and began to drive. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would be back to set this right.

Tonight, though, she was going consume a dangerous amount of alcohol and forget all about it.

...

The sunlight was streaming through the windows: she had forgotten to close the curtains last night in her drunken stupor. Rolling over, she caught a face full of light and grimaced, bringing her hand up to shade her face. Squinting, she turned back away. Momentarily, she forgot what had happened, her foggy brain trying to sort through the events of the day before. But it all slotted into place with sudden and all-too-vivid clarity. Groaning, she pulled the covers over her head, wanting to sink into the bed and back into sleep-filled ignorance, but the part of her brain that had been filled with rage yesterday was now calling her out of bed and into a state of purposeful revenge. Revenge. That was what she wanted.

...

Mrs Beauchamp sat at her desk, looking at the woman sat across from her. Although the crisp suit and the heavy perfume were evidence of an effort to tidy herself, the bags under her eyes were all too clearly from a night of alcohol, something that no amount of make-up could disguise.

"Zoe, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please, Connie. Don't insult my intelligence. We both know what you've done."

Connie said nothing, just stared at Zoe right in the eyes, who was getting riled by her rival's refusal to say anything.

"How the fuck did you think you were going to get away with it? You thought I'd just sit back and take it? Let you ruin my career, my life? I'd have thought you'd have had more sense than that!"

Connie leant back, not breaking eye contact.

"I can't believe you're not even defending yourself! Do you understand what it is that you've done? You've lied to everyone, Connie!"

"So what are you going to do about it? Run to Guy?"

Zoe let out a shout of laughter, "'Run to Guy?' That's more your style, isn't it?"

Connie looked down. "Zoe, if you make this public, it's not going to end well. I know you think you're the innocent little victim here, but I know what you did. And I can tell everyone."

Zoe shrugged, though she looked shaken. "You think I care? Do what you fucking want, I'm getting justice, Connie." She stood and walked out, slamming the door angrily.

Zoe strode out the ED, her feet following the same path as yesterday. But it was a different woman who walked it now, with a different purpose. Yesterday, she had been shocked. No, more than shocked, she had been astonished, overwhelmed, furious. But now she was determined, her anger was contained and fashioned into a steely point and her aim was clear. She was going to see this out. She would get her revenge.

**I haven't done a fic like this before, so not sure how it's going to turn out, but bear with... Reviews would be much appreciated :)**


	2. Ghosts

She sat outside Guy's office, watching the clock on the wall opposite. The second hand seemed to be moving at half speed, her impatience doubling with every tick. Normally, she wouldn't have waited, but he was talking to some hotshot American, and she knew better than to barge in and start throwing accusations around, especially when they were about Guy's leading light.

Five minutes. Ten Minutes. Sighing and rolling her eyes at Guy's lack of urgency, she began thinking about what she was actually going to say. It was all very well knowing what had happened, but to actually tell Guy coherently without sounding like she was going mad, that would be difficult. _Start at the beginning, _she thought, _the beginning._

_3 days earlier_

_ "Chase up CT, Rita, I want to know what's going on in his chest," Zoe called after her colleague, who stuck her thumbs up by way of a response. She checked her watch and, realising that she was due a break, swerved into the staff room to pick up her cigarettes and lighter from her locker. On her way out, she grabbed the back of Max's shirt who was ambling aimlessly into reception, and pulled him outside with her._

_Although he grumbled initially, as soon as he saw who it was he looked around quickly to check no one was watching and planted a deep kiss on her lips. She returned with equal passion, but then, remembering where she was, pulled herself away reluctantly. She grinned up at him and handed him a cigarette._

_"We've got to start being a bit more careful about where we do this, Max,"_

_"Says you! You just dragged me out mid-shift in front of the entire ED!" he let her light his cigarette and took a deep drag._

_"This is true. But they probably think that I'm just telling you off," she stuck her tongue out between her teeth cheekily._

_"Moi? Why would I be in trouble?"  
She looked him up and down, pretending to look for faults, "well firstly, your hair is too long." Seeing his incredulous expression, she defended herself, "it could be seen to- endanger patient care! And also, your timekeeping has been less than satisfactory recently. To this very shift, in fact, you were twelve minutes late."_

_"You noticed?" He looked flattered that she had remembered his arrival, "but I think you're the one who deserves a telling off, Dr Hanna."_

_Rolling her eyes, knowing where he was going with this, she played along, reaching out and playing with his collar, "oh? Why would that be?"_

_"Firstly. Those heels could also be seen to- what was it?- "endanger patient care". And that dress." He looked at her figure, accented by the folds of the bodycon dress she wore today, and grinned. "It should probably be illegal." _

_She sighed and pulled on his shirt collar, angling themselves slightly so that they were more out of the way of the view of the car approaching the ED entrance. "Oh, Max. Couldn't you think of anything more imaginative?"_

_Leaning in, he whispered, "I'll leave the imagination for later."  
She groaned at the obvious cheesiness, but gave in, letting him wrap his arms around her, push her up against the wall, his lips almost fighting hers with intense passion. She threw her cigarette away and ran her hands up into his hair, then back down his back, pulling him closer to her forcefully._

_"Dr Hanna?"_

_They broke apart, Max leaning round the corner to see who it was._

_"It's that crazy woman again." Zoe groaned and leant her head on Max's shoulder in faux despair. He smirked and pushed her away, "neglecting your patients, Dr Hanna?"_

_"It's not the patients I mind, it's the relatives I can't stick." She straightened herself and walked round the corner, greeting the woman who had called her with her biggest, fakest smile. "Mrs Lantham, I've told you, his condition is treatable…"_

…

_She checked her watch. 18:00. Finally. The shift seemed to have lasted years, it had taken nearly forty minutes to convince Mrs Lantham that Mr Lantham's rash was simply a flare-up of excema and not some rare and fatal flesh-eating disease, and she was pretty sure that she hadn't really believed her anyway. In desperate need of a cigarette, she headed for the ED doors, hoping to find Max outside ready to take her home. On her way out, she almost collided with Jeff, who was bringing a trolley through shouting for help. She looked behind her: Cal and Ethan had left, Connie was in a meeting with Lily about some experimental treatment, and Ash hadn't turned up for his shift yet. Rolling her eyes, she followed Jeff, throwing her bag at Noel and picking up her stethoscope from the desk._

_"…Larch Road at approximately 40mph. Was KO'd at the scene, not yet regained consciousness, suspected fractured right tib and fib, lost approximately 2 pints..."_

_But Zoe didn't hear anything else because she had caught sight of the face of the body on the trolley. Covered in blood and small scratches, she could still make out his features, they'd been the ones she had wanted to see. But not like this. Max's body was broken and battered, blood stains seeping through his clothes in various places, his jeans cut open on his right leg, presumably to allow the paramedics access to the vicious-looking injury to his knee. She had barely registered him before he was swept away, followed by Connie who had left her office at the commotion._

_Shock claimed every limb of her body. She wanted to run. She wanted to run into the ED and help him, save him. She wanted to run out the ED and find the driver that had done this to him and kill him. But she couldn't move. Connie had disappeared into resus after the trolley, followed by Lily and Tess. It was as if the whole room was swirling round her, everyone seemed to be much closer to her than they actually were. Not him. Not Max. _

_She gasped and the feeling in her limbs returned. Bursting through the doors of resus, she went straight to him. Ignoring the mess of doctors and nurses and paramedics and shouted commands, she bent down to his head under the pretext of checking his pupils, and whispered, _

_"Max, we've got you. We've got you. You're going to be just fine, I promise you. Trust me."_

_…_

_"He's stable, but still critical. Our major concern is his right leg. There is some major fracturing there that may mean that we have to amputate, but with monitoring and surgery, there is a chance of recovery." _

_Robyn's face crumpled. "You mean, he's not going to die?"_

_Zoe grimaced, "not if I can help it." She patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and walked to her office. The sound of Robyn's sobs echoed down the corridor, as if they were chasing Zoe. He was going to be OK. He was going to be OK. She told herself. Running her hands through her hair, tears threatening to burst, she let out a huge sigh. She had left him in capable hands. Connie, although a complete nightmare to work with, was an excellent doctor. Heading straight for the ED doors, stopping only to pick up her bag and pull the cigarette packet from it, she left._

_Drawing heavily, she leant back against the wall, relief flooding her. His face: so empty, so- dead. She thought he was going to die. She thought she had lost him. Almost laughing with surprise at her emotions, she took another drag of her cigarette. She had never expected to feel this way. An easy fling, she had thought. He was young, bought her flowers, knew his way around, and made her feel pretty good. But it turned out that she couldn't get enough. He was beginning to be the first thing she thought about in the morning, and the last thing she thought about at night. Which wasn't actually difficult, since he was normally lying next to her first thing in the morning and last thing at night._

_The fear that had paralysed her when she had seen him on that trolley. Fuck. This was more than just a fling._

"Zoe?" Suddenly realising that Guy had finally finished his meeting and was now trying to get her attention, she blinked and looked up.

"Guy, sorry, was in my own little world."

"I bet, with all the- stress and worry of- everything." He gestured her into his office and into the chair opposite his desk.

"Yes, well it's about- everything that I want to speak." She met his gaze almost reluctantly. "There are things that you should know."

Guy sat up straight, "is this a confession?"

"No, it's not a confession. It wasn't my fault." Seeing Guy's doubtful look, she persevered, "I know that it sounds confused and a bit ridiculous, but it really wasn't, Guy."

"So… What happened?" Guy's voice was accusatory, she could tell that he didn't really believe her. She took a deep breath and prepared herself. She had to get this right. Everything was at stake.

**Still a bit unsure about this story, it may get a bit confusing, I've sort of messed around with the chronology a bit to make it more interesting... but hope you like it :) reviews would be much appreciated xx**


	3. Blame

"It was all a huge mistake. I didn't give him the drugs- well, I did- but I didn't- it wasn't the cause."

Guy frowned. "Zoe, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Look, this is coming out all wrong." She sighed and ran her hands through her hair; she was normally so good at getting herself understood. "It wasn't me who did it. It was Connie, she's been covering it up because no one knew what she had been doing, but it was her, Guy, I swear."

"Seriously, Zoe, if you don't start making some sense now… I've got an incredibly busy day, and you coming in here talking nonsense isn't really helping."

"OK, OK. It was the day before yesterday…"

_2 days earlier_

_She woke to the shrill sound of her mobile phone ringtone, the artificial notes piercing her ears like tiny spears. Grimacing, she fumbled in her bag and answered, realising as she did so that she had fallen asleep in her car still in the car park. She answered the phone, her head half in dreams._

_"What?"_

_"Zoe, it's Robyn," _

_Wondering why Robyn was calling her, and why her voice sounded like it was coming through water, "Robyn? What's wrong?"_

_"It's Max, he's-" but her voice was cut off by what seemed like a fresh wave of sobs, and suddenly, Zoe knew. The word "Max" had triggered a series of memories in her brain, and she was wide awake._

_"Robyn, tell me, tell me what's happened," she shoved the car door open, got out and began walking to the entrance, "what's happened, Robyn?"_

_"He's- he's dead-" fresh sobs overtook Robyn's voice, and the line went dead. Wave upon wave of dread crashed over Zoe, who was now running flat out to the doors, where she collided with Connie on her way out.  
"Connie, Max, what's-" Connie looked upset and confused, and her hands were shaking. "Connie?"_

_ "He's dead, Zoe, he died."_

_Frustrated, "but how? Why? He was getting better, he's been stable for hours!"_

_"He deteriorated, and then he died."_

_"Yes, Connie, I get that bit, what's confusing me is why he was absolutely fine yesterday, and now he's fucking dead!" She was shouting now, trying to get some sense out of her colleague, who was unusually distracted; she wanted to get hold of her and shake the answer out of her. Taking a deep breath, "Just tell me what happened."_

_Connie suddenly seemed to come to herself, looking Zoe in the eye, "I think it was an overdose. Morphine? I'm not sure."_

_Zoe stepped back. She felt like she'd been hit over the head. _A morphine overdose.Oh, God. _She had administered the morphine._

"So are you saying that you didn't give him the morphine?"

Zoe shook her head in frustration, "no no, I did, but I didn't give him an overdose. There was something else that killed him..."

...

As she explained her story to Guy, his face went from doubtful irritation to confusion, and lastly settled on angry disbelief. "Do you have any proof of this, Zoe? I can't just take your word for it, it's too big,"

"Well, I don't have any proof just yet."

"So how do you know that it's true?"

"I overheard her talking about it with someone,"

Guy looked incredulous, "what? That's ridiculous, I can't start accusing Connie on the grounds of half an overheard conversation! Who was she even talking to?"  
Zoe paused. If he hadn't liked her methods of information collection, he definitely wouldn't like this. "I don't actually know. Whoever it was didn't say anything, and I missed the rest of the conversation." Seeing that Guy had had enough, she tried desperately to keep him listening, "I know that it's all a bit unbelievable, but I promise you, it's what happened! Everything fits, Guy, we've just got to find proof, and then it's all over!"  
"We? _We_ haven't got to do anything, Zoe. _I_ am supposed to be in a meeting, and _you, _well, you'd better go home. Get some rest, and then either come back with a more plausible explanation that is a) true, and b) less incriminating for heads of departments, or just face this enquiry with a bit of humility. A man has died here, it's not a chance for you to get your own back on Connie."

Zoe opened her mouth in protest, but closed it at the warning look on Guy's face. "Fine. But I'm coming back to work tomorrow, Guy."

He sighed and raised his eyebrows, almost disappointedly, "I was pretty sure you would."

She left the office, her once buoyant mood now well and truly sunk. How was she supposed to get proof? She had already confronted Connie, who was the unlikeliest person to offer up the information that would end her career, and probably her freedom. There was unlikely to be any evidence, the idea that Connie been stupid enough to leave such clear signals to her guilt was laughable. So there were only two possible hopes left. The post mortem could offer up some evidence, could disprove the morphine overdose theory or point towards her own idea. But that wasn't until tomorrow, the results not until the day after. Or there was the mystery person Connie was talking to. It all seemed to impossible, how the hell was she supposed to know who that was? She didn't even have Max anymore.

Either way, she _had _to find proof. Her career, no, her life was on the line.


	4. Bruises

Her alarm woke her at 7:00. The electronic ringing seemed to delve its way into head and set fire to her brain. Groaning, she reached out to turn it off, knocking over an empty bottle of wine from the bedside table, which crashed painfully loudly on the floor and rolled away. She clutched her head, which was throbbing. Groggily making her way to the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A huge purple bruise was flowered across her left cheek, around her eye and touching on the bridge of her nose. Remembering how at some point between the sixth and the seventh glass of wine she had fallen off the sofa and hit her head on the table, she groaned. It was already difficult enough facing a group of colleagues who thought she had killed their colleague, let alone when she had a fucking black eye as well. This was not going to be the best day.

…

"You're late, Zoe, patient in cubicle- what happened?" Charlie had seen Zoe's bruise, which she had tried to cover with make up, but apparently, hadn't tried hard enough.

"Ohh not so loud, Charlie. Bit of a- heavy night." She rolled her eyes at Charlie's disapproving look, "can you blame me, really? You all think I killed a member of staff, and I can't prove otherwise!"

He handed her the notes for a patient and walked off. Her heart fell a little bit further. Charlie was almost like a father to her, had always treated her like his own. To see him turn his back on her was painful- she thought that out of everyone, he might have believed her. Leaving her coat and bag in her locker, she turned and was about to leave the staff room when she was stopped.

"Zoe!" She waited a second and prepared herself for another lecture about her eye or her drinking or maybe she had killed another patient? Turning round, she saw Robyn. She hadn't seen her since that fateful day, and seeing her so obviously broken and grief-stricken made her stomach turn. Of course, it was her brother who had died.

"Robyn, how are you doing?"

Robyn's face was contorted with rage as she spat out: "I don't know how you can stand there and look me in the eye after what you've done."

Zoe sighed. How many times was she going to have to protest her innocence? "Robyn, I didn't do it. You've got to believe me, I didn't-."

"You were sleeping with him." Zoe looked to the floor. She couldn't deny that one. Several people were congregating round the two women now, interested in the shouting. "I knew it! You were in some sick relationship! Oh my God, I can't believe I didn't guess! They were your shoes."

"Robyn, we weren't just- fooling around. Well, we were, at first, but we were actually quite close before- before he-"

"-before you killed him."

"No, Robyn, no. I didn't kill him, I swear to you."

"You led him on, and then took your opportunity to kill him when you had the chance so that no one would find out. I thought it was just an accident, but this- this is murder, Zoe!"

"That's ridiculous! I wasn't leading him on, and I didn't kill him, I couldn't _murder_ him! Robyn, you're not thinking straight, I wouldn't have killed him just so that no one would find out, that's insane-" But Robyn was already walking away.

The group of people watching had swelled to hear Robyn's words. Zoe looked into the faces of her colleagues. She felt like she was stuck in some kind of nightmare: Max dies, she's accused of murdering him, and she can't prove that she didn't. _How had they found out? _Feeling accusation coming at her from all sides, from people she thought liked and respected her: Tess, Charlie, Ash, Big Mac: she was so alone in this room full of friends.

In attempt to protect her innocence, she said "I didn't do it," but her voice caught in her throat and it came out more as a whispered croak than a defiant protest. Her eyes begged those around her to believe and trust her, although the black eye slightly reduced the effect.

"You judged me for Fletch, Zoe, and all the time you were- carrying on with Max," Tess spoke up, tones of anger and resentment playing loudly in her voice, "some friend."

Her words bit into Zoe like knives, and she recoiled physically. "I'm so sorry," a tear trickled down her cheek which she wiped away roughly, wincing as she made contact with her bruise, "please, Tess, I didn't kill him."

But Tess turned on her hall and disappeared out the staff room door. Zoe looked at each of the remaining faces in turn, but was met with only disgust and pity. "Please," she whispered, but the stony silence pressed in on her, broken only by footsteps as people began to follow Tess and leave the room. Lily looked at Zoe with such pity in her eyes that Zoe scowled at her.

"Charlie, wait," Zoe cried after him, "you believe me, don't you?" She grabbed his arm to stop him leaving, but he pushed her off.

"I don't know what I believe, Zoe. But you shouldn't have been seeing Max, and he didn't deserve what happened to him." He left the room, leaving Zoe alone.

She collapsed into a chair, now crying freely. "I didn't do it," she struggled through her tears, "I didn't do it."

…

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"If you want."

"That's a good bruise."

"You should see the other cow." She knocked back the last of her double vodka like it was water. "Another one, please," she called to the girl behind the bar, her words slightly slurred.

"I'll get it," he held out a ten pound note to the girl, and Zoe looked at him.

"I can buy my own drinks."

"I don't doubt that. I was just-"

She had slid off her stool with impressive control considering the amount of alcohol that was fuelling her limbs, and was now looking him dead straight in the eyes. "Trying to get me into bed."

"Well- that was quick." He looked surprised, and moved closer to her, breathing heavily in her face.

"I can't be fucked with the talking. Do you have alcohol at yours?"

Taken aback by her straightforward talking, but not about to blow it, "of course."

"Well then. Call a taxi."

He kissed her roughly on the mouth, "outside in two minutes," and disappeared to call one. Zoe took the vodka that the girl had put on the bar and drank steadily, barely pausing for breath. She grimaced, slammed the glass back to the bar and followed the stranger out the bar.  
Tonight was mission self destruct.


	5. Hair of the Dog

She stumbled out the taxi, blinked hard in the early morning light, and shoved money through the window to the driver.

"Are you going to be alright, Miss?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks," her reply was hostile and pointed, so the taxi sped away, and Zoe was left swaying on the pavement outside her block of flats. Feeling queasy, she held onto the railings and shut her eyes, attempting to stop the world from moving, but she still felt like she was on a roundabout. She was trying very hard not to think of last night and the man whose house she'd just left, but his unpleasant breath and slimy hands were reaching into the edge of her thoughts, making her feel even more ill. _Why had she gone home with him?_ Judging by the monumental hangover she was suffering from this morning, she had been drinking. A lot. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from vomiting in the middle of the street; that would be a new low, even for her, and began easing herself up the steps.

Back in her apartment, she poured herself a large gin and tonic. _Hair of the dog._

Sitting on the sofa to drink, she let herself think of last night. _His rough, groping hands in the back of the taxi. The underlying smell of damp in his apartment that, she realised this morning, was on the outskirts of Farmmead. The deep sense of shame she experienced this morning when she awoke to see his sweaty face on the pillow next to hers._

She shuddered with disgust at herself and the mystery man. She hadn't had that sort of evening for months- years, the sort of student night out that she had lived off of at university, the sort of night she had expected to have with Max, but he had been surprisingly gentlemanly. He had bought her flowers, would make her breakfast in the morning, and although apparently insatiable, was often happy with an evening of talking if that was what she felt like. He had given her the sort of attention she hadn't had since Nick had left, and had made her feel good, better than she had in a while. It had been nice to leave work knowing that there would be someone there to take her home, nice to wake up next to someone, nice seeing his face at work and share those secret moments; a wink or a subtle slap. The age gap never really seemed to matter, nor the professional gap; they were equally matched in confidence.

Surprised to find tears pouring down her face, she finished her drink and began pouring herself another. She had barely let herself think about Max since he had died, too preoccupied with trying to understand what had happened and then trying to prove that she was innocent. But now, his face seemed to be attached to the inside of her eyelids: even when her eyes were closed, he was looking at her. His eyes seemed to be following hers. She longed for him. She had been trying to figure out her feelings for him before he had died, but it was too late, now. He wasn't coming back, and she wasn't going to be able to tell him anything. Had she loved him? _No. Not love, but something close._ She couldn't have imagined marrying him, or even moving in, but she couldn't have imagined breaking up with him either. There was no point in trying to figure out how she had felt for him now that he was dead.

She stood up, trying to rid herself of the image of Max's face: it had tortured her for too long now. She caught sight of several letters on the mat that she must have stumbled over earlier, too distracted to notice. She picked up her post, and, on seeing a brown envelope with the hospital's logo on it, ripped it open desperately. It was Max's post mortem results: she'd asked for them to be delivered to her so she could prepare herself. Her eyes scanning past all the useless information, she found the all important words.

_"Following our posthumous enquiry, it has been concluded that the cause of death of Mr Max T Walker was a lethal amount of morphine administered before death."_

_No._ _No. _She collapsed back against the wall and slid down until she was sitting on the floor, the letter dropped to the floor. How had this happened? She had been sure that it hadn't been her, that Connie had killed him with her meddling. _It's all such a mess_. Forgetting her black eye, she wiped her cheek, then began to cry all over again. _40 years old, single, childless, a career hanging by a thread, a suspected murderer, drunk in the morning yet again and a fucking black eye._ This was not where she thought she'd end up. She held her head in her hands, the racking sobs bringing her hangover back full circle. There seemed to be no way out of this one.


End file.
